The Shop Around The Corner
by whedonite1113
Summary: Two strangers meet online, neither knowing the other's name, only knowing that each time they open their inbox a "dear friend" is waiting there with a message just for them. Loosely based on the romcom "You've Got Mail," be prepared to see what zany things happen to Naomi and Emily as they find themselves falling in love in a very unusual way.
1. Chapter 1

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: So I've decided to try my hand at a romantic comedy. This is based off of the ever popular Meg Ryan and Tom Hanks film **_**You've Got Mail**_**. But with a definitive Naomily twist, as well as major plot points being changed. Hopefully, I'm decent at this. I'm a notorious angst-a-holic and have now given myself the task of writing mostly fluff, so I'm just as curious as you guys to see how this turns out.**

**If you like what you read be sure to leave a review telling me what you think. I have everything outlined so posting should be pretty quick with this one, count on weekly to bi-weekly updates. And don't worry, the other stories are still on track, I just needed a bit of a break. **

**Now without further ado, I present my fourth multi-chapter fic, **_**The Shop Around The Corner**_**.**

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><p><strong>CHAPTER ONE<strong>

London. A city filled with thousands of people who were waking into various stages of their morning. Some were leaving for work, some were just arriving home from a graveyard shift. Some, like Mackenzie Stanley, were bustling about in the kitchen, prattling on to the speaker in their mobile, keeping others awake.

Emily didn't have to wait on her alarm that morning. She'd been stirring to the sounds of her girlfriend noisily meandering for the last hour. Truth be told, there was quite a bit on the young red-head's mind that morning. And the smell of brewing coffee was beckoning those thoughts into sharper focus. Rising slowly from beneath her thick duvet, Emily travelled into the kitchen to find Mac, as she was called by her friends and everyone really, was fully dressed. And dressed to the tall brunette was a pair of skinny jeans, an oversized jumper, her hair tossed into a bun, strings hanging down her face, and her glasses slightly askew as she continued to hound on and on about how "mobile phones do everything these days. We've become lazy, we've become a society that depends on technology to do everything for us," while she let the eggs in the pan burn.

Sighing, Emily maneuvered around her girlfriend and tossed the ruined meal into the sink. She waited for Mac to acknowledge her existence, but the brunette was balls deep in it now and Emily knew there wasn't likely to be anything to pull her from her Supergirl moments anytime soon. At least not before the clock struck down the final five minutes before she absolutely had to leave for her latest job interview.

So Emily took her time getting a mug from the pantry and pouring her coffee before walking back into the living room. Shutting the door behind her, Emily settled behind her laptop, glancing at the time and noting she easily had an hour before she even had to get to work. Smiling, she was admittedly giddy she could take her time.

Opening her inbox she read the reply on a strain of messages which SeekingSonnets31 (herself) and Wild4Wilde (someone who Emily only ever addressed as "Dear Friend") had been exchanging for nearly three months now. They never spoke of intimate details surrounding who they were. No names, no addresses, all they knew was that they both lived in London and they were both lovers of some of the exact same books. That is how it all started. Now Emily found herself opening a word document to copy and paste her thoughts of the day…or morning…as was the case for the moment, before giving pause to re-read the reply she had received just last night:

_Dear Friend,_

_Most people hate the winters and falls in London. But I am such a fan. There's something more brisk about the city, how it lights up under the chill of the rain. It takes some of the shine off the romanticism for the tourists, but it makes me feel more connected to the people who gallivant about the city. Wouldn't you say? It also makes me think of being a young girl, about to start school. The smell of fresh pencil shavings, new cuts of construction paper, and the invariable day the class would have our first trip to the library to check out all the books we would be reading that year._

_If I could, I would send you a bouquet of colored pencils, provided I knew where you lived. Or where you worked. I imagine that would certainly make you the center of some strange attention for the afternoon. At the very least, what a great conversation piece! It's a pity I cannot deliver them in person. Then again…this not knowing has its charms._

Emily was just about to start typing away, her grin apparent over the steam of the coffee in her mug, when Mac came barreling in. Emily glanced at the clock. Apparently she had been daydreaming while reading again. That always seemed to happen when she read "Wilde's" emails. She drifted off to picture it all playing out in her head, and for some reason she had gotten locked on to the idea of this blonde (because Emily had determined she just somehow seemed like a blonde the way she spoke) waltzing into the book shop with a bouquet of vibrant colored pencils in her hand. And Emily found it ridiculously charming. "Where the flying flippity fuck did I put—"

Her girlfriend on the other hand? "They're here," Emily said, holding up the files above her head before receiving a thankful peck on the top of her head and the manila envelopes vanished from her fingers…not so much.

"I'm late I'm late I'm so late good bye I love you," was all Emily heard before Mac stumbled right out the front door. Emily sighed, lulling her head back against her chair as she pulled her knees up to her chest. She rubbed her temples lightly, not really appreciating having her peace and quiet being disturbed by the surging live wire that Mac was every morning. Maybe if Emily had known that six months ago, she would have reconsidered it when she was asked to move in with her girlfriend of two years. She figured she owed it to Mac…the woman was good to her. Most of the time.

Pushing all frustration with the brunette who was no longer not even in the building, Emily lowered her coffee onto the desk after one long swallow and hit the 'reply' button.

_Dear Friend, _

_I like to start my notes off as if we are already in the middle of a conversation. I prefer this because it makes this whole exchange feel far more familiar than what we actually are. And yet I feel as if you're one of the few people who will actually talk to me and not at me whenever I speak. Speaking, I suppose is how I see us. When I think of us. And I admit I find myself waiting with baited breath every time I click on my inbox and feel my stomach do a flip when I see you there waiting for me. Later when I walk the streets of London, the smog clears, the people around me walk in a blurred haze, and my head is higher as I press my shoulders back, and contemplate the words we've spoken as I stroll to work. And I find more and more with each day, I take my time._

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><p>Opening a small door on the side entrance of the building, Naomi Campbell resituated the tailored suit she had made for her as a gift just last year. Her entire flat was an absolute wreck almost ninety percent of the time, but each and every piece of clothing she put on her back was always in pristine condition. If she was going to be the new executive head in charge of the largest book distribution company on the British isles, the nearly thirty year old blonde figured she had better look the part.<p>

As a child, Naomi wanted nothing to do with her father. He had left she and her mom when she was a very small girl, and Naomi had always resented him for it. Then about six years ago, her mother got sick. Very sick. The doctors said it was lupus, a painful disease which kept her mother almost in constant, chronic pain and sometimes days or even weeks of debilitating exhaustion. Naomi had dropped out of uni to work full time until one day they got a knock at the door.

Apparently her father had passed away recently, not looking where he was going before stepping out into oncoming traffic. Naomi had no feelings about this whatsoever apart from the fact that she would inherit all the profits from his company, Bestsellers Publications. Naomi had asked how much she would obtain if she were to, instead, take her father's place in the business. It would be three times the amount, which would ensure her mother could have the constant care she needed, in a place where someone could always tend to her when Naomi wasn't available. It had taken some doing, but eventually, a few months later, Naomi Campbell walked into the head CEO office in the largest building she had ever seen in downtown London as the new head of the department.

She had taken a few business and economic courses at uni and figured anything else she could learn on the job. If anything, she had the "gift of gab" and could easily lure people onto her side to help steer her in the direction she needed. Come to find, she actually had a strong head on her shoulders when it came to her job and within five years she had created an empire nearly four times its original size.

Strolling through the empty hallways of the building still in construction, Naomi was happy to see her head of sales gabbing away at a few of the new investors which had been promised to stop by. Naomi walked right up and introduced herself, saving her co-worker and friend, James Cook, the trouble.

"Ah Miss Campbell," one of the two middle aged men said, taking Naomi's hand and shaking it, "it looks like everything is order," he beamed, taking a glance around at the progress which had been made.

"And everything will be on time," Naomi added, "I trust Mr. Cook has filled you in on all the planning we're doing for additional sections we've managed to procure now over here," Naomi said, leading them toward a giant swirling staircase which was the epicenter of the room, "I'm hoping to have this lead up to the Children's section. Upstairs we're going to build an entire area which morphs from one enchanted land into the other. Kids can read in the forest or in a cove or even in a room designed to look like the Charms classroom from the Harry Potter books. It's sure to be one of our biggest draws."

"Well, we hadn't gotten thah fah, Miss Cambull," Cook replied a bit bashfully, but grinned all the same, "but y'always tahlk 'bout eht wif much more enfusiasm thehn I kin manage." Naomi blushed slightly as she approached the investors yet again.

"You've done great things for this company, Miss Campbell, great things, you never cease to impress us," the second investor said as he directed the older gentleman at his side toward the exit. Naomi and Cook watched them go and as soon as the door was closed, Naomi released a long sigh.

"Fuck's sake how long were they here?" she asked, loosening a few buttons on her blazer and tucking into her trousers for a cigarette. She gave one to Cook as he undid his tie and placed the fag between his lips.

"Ovuh'n hour, where were ya this morning?"

Naomi averted Cook's eyes as she remembered reading and re-reading her message from a certain "Friend" that morning with giddy excitement. She couldn't help that she often lost track of time when she spent her mornings over coffee, garibaldis, and the latest entry from the enchanting stranger who was growing more and more intriguing with each passing email.

"You was emailing thah fit bird again, weren' cha?" Cook asked, wiggling his eyebrows as he took a heavy drag. Naomi mashed the end of the cigarette out, having fulfilled her necessary fix and stilled her nerves, and immediately decided to change topics as she led them toward the nearby office.

"It's 'were' Cook, 'were' not 'was'," Naomi chided, correcting his grammar yet again, as she held the door open for her colleague. Cook shrugged as he plopped into the lone chair in front of the desk and propped his feet up on the wood. Naomi pushed his spatted shoes right off as she took a seat on the desk, allowing him to finish his fag as she continued. "And that's beside the point. I hope I wasn't telling them a fib when I said that everything was going to be underway for the grand opening next week?" Cook shrugged and grinned at his boss.

"Like y'said, blondie, everyfin's a-go n'on time." He then leaned forward in his chair ever so slightly, his brow furrowed, "but aren' cha joos a li'l bit worried 'bout the competition?" Naomi practically balked at Cook's suggestion.

"What that little book nook across the street? Oh come now, Cook, there isn't a single thing they have that we don't." Cook pointed his fingers at the blonde as he added,

"Not financially no. But they 'ave the loyalty of th'customer baise. Apparently this, book nook, as y'call eht, 's goht a very faithful followin'. 'N ya saw wha' 'appen ta Fox Books joost last month ovuh in Manchester when tha' store opened oop. Picket siegns, protes's, our naimes smeared 'cross t'telly."

"And every last one of those employees were offered new jobs with benefits and a pay raise, weren't they?" Naomi countered, "If something happens to…what is it called again?"

"The Shop 'round The Corner." Cook grinned a bit. "M'gran took me there when I was a lad. Think it's still roon by the same family." A tiny little pang at the look of nostalgia on Cook's face resonated in Naomi's stomach as she walked around her desk and sat in its brand new leather chair. "Don't get me wrong, business is whah eht is. Eht's a different demographic, maybe I'm wrong."

"And if you're right?" Naomi asked, pulling a stack of papers from a folder and giving them to Cook. The young man stood and took the documents as his smile grew and he leaned over the desk with a happy leer,

"Then we seduce th'people uhv London. Biggest crowd yet means biggest win t'be 'ad, Naomikins." And with that the young man happily left his boss to her work.

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><p>The bell just above the doorway gave a happy little jingle just as Emily unlocked the door to the shop. Throwing the light switch on, she immediately crossed to the counter to continue turning on the lights throughout the building. It wasn't large in size, but it was filled wall to wall with books, each labeled by section by an overhang marker and alphabetized accordingly. In the center aisle, from the door to the little elevated corner toward the back window, there were several carousels filled with book themed toys from Harry Potter wands to book marks to calendars to maps and educational games to the occasional Doctor Who TARDIS.<p>

The place smelled of parchment, ink, wood, and the slightest hint of mint which was a fragrance Emily had always been a fan of ever since she was a child. It made the senses open up and gave the mind a sense of being invited into every page the reader, or buyer, thought to open.

Emily was so lost in thought, thinking and wondering what, if anything, her mysterious internet friend liked to smell when she read…incense, candles…prepared coffee perhaps?...that she didn't even register that there was a clink of the door as Effy walked in to begin her morning shift.

She had been admittedly surprised that the two of them had developed a friendship. Effy and Katie had always gotten along so much better. But after Katie left for America, the two of them sort of gravitated toward one another out of sheer instinct. And when Emily had taken over her gran's shop, Effy had agreed to help her run the tiny little business. It worked out well, Effy was a whizz with math, come to find, and had a great idea for marketing ideas. Emily was wonderful with the customer base (an area Effy admittedly lacked in, people weren't really her thing) and Effy kept Emily from making any bad business decisions.

In the end, it was an odd match made in heaven.

Tossing her coat on the nearby chair behind he counter, Effy tapped Emily's shoulder to bring her out of her wandering daze. "Half the lights aren't on," Effy said as she flipped a nearby switch, illuminating the back of the shop.

"Oh yeah. Sorry," Emily said as she opened the till and began to count out the money from the safe beneath. Her mind kicked into hyper drive as she momentarily wondered how long she had just been staring, playing with the patterns on her coat occasionally, and how much time she had actually lost. Focusing in on her task, she barely heard Effy when she muttered,

"To be young and in love?" The word love is what made Emily snap her head toward her friend.

"Who? What? Who's in love, I'm not in love," she insisted. Effy reached into the nearby small fridge near the office, pulling out a tray of assorted baked goods for the tiny display counter as her brow furrowed.

"You're not?" she asked, "Did you and Mac have a fight or something?" Emily's racing mind slowed exponentially as she laughed.

"Oh yes, Mac. Of course. Mac. I'm in love with, Mac. How…how silly of me."

"Emily…"

"Hm?"

"You've counted that stack four times now." Emily shoved the money into the slot and closed the till. With a heavy sigh she looked up at her friend who immediately said, "What's her name?"

"You shouldn't do that you know, it's really a turn off when you do that." Emily crossed her arms and came out from around the counter, straightening her jumper and pretending to be occupied with stacking a few dolls which were still resting inside a nearby package. It was a few seconds before she said, "Is it cheating if you flirt with someone online?" Effy's response was almost immediate.

"Have you had sex?" Emily nearly knocked over the display as she turned and balked at the effervescent brunette.

"What? No! We…we haven't even met." Effy gave her a pitying smile as she clarified,

"Cyber sex." Biting her lower lip, Emily admitted,

"I don't even know her name. But…everything about the way she talks…every word of hers I've read has makes me feel…" Emily struggled with the words until she landed on a very particular image, "…it's that same feeling you get when you pick up a book and you begin reading about the characters in it…and there's this part of you that just knows you're going to love them forever and you—"

"So it is love," Effy interrupted.

"Oh fuck off, Eff," Emily griped as she crossed to the door and opened it up for the first group of children who were eagerly awaiting their back to school purchases. Emily smiled at the red noses and seemingly exasperated looks of their parents. But each face was bright and familiar, and for a moment…Emily forgot about what Effy had implied.

For a moment at least…


	2. Chapter 2

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: Expect short, hopefully fast moving, chapters for this fic. But maybe that means you'll get more faster! Still chugging away, hopefully I can keep up. **

**Enjoy and review!**

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><p><strong>CHAPTER TWO<strong>

_Dear Friend,_

_Today I had an interesting encounter with a former flame who also happened to, at one point, date a mutual friend of mine. I had not expected the meeting, but when one works where hundreds come and go every day, eventually London has to filter every one through, right? I admit, some days, I wish you would be one of those people. And somehow I would just miraculously know without you having to say a word. But that's pretty silly, wishful thinking don't you think?_

_At any rate, to return to my awkward situation, which was precisely what it was, I was bombarded with incessant questions while this tree of a shadow loomed over me everywhere I went. I did my best to remain polite and courteous, but the more I insisted that I had to return to work, the harder she seemed to try and advance. I know this sounds like a rather personal story, but I assure you, I'm about to reach my point._

_As I was being stalked throughout the tiny space of the store, I saw something in our new shipment which reminded me of you. A bright purple package of Garibaldi's, a particular favorite of yours I'd gather since you mentioned on more than one occasion you take them with your coffee…tea…by themselves…, was sitting atop the little plastic container, and I thought how much more of a pleasant conversation I could be having right now rather than being here now with Mandy. But perhaps, if I was kind to her for one minute, it would be enough, and I could go about my business._

_Unfortunately, it backfired, and ultimately I had to have my shop assistant rather insistently escort her from the premises. It was a rather embarrassing thing to be put on the spot like that, but what else can you do when an ex-girlfriend just stops by like that apart from being convivial and hope it all turns out for the best?_

Emily stared at her screen for a moment and debated writing just below that, "Oh I'm gay, by the way, did I mention?" But with a shake of her head and an insistence that would just mean she actually cared whether or not "Friend" had an opinion on her sexuality, she sent the e-mail just as it stood. With a groan and a stretch, she went to make tea.

And was rather surprised when she was greeted with such a speedy return.

_Dear Friend,_

_I can certainly empathize when it comes to lady troubles._

Emily refrained from pumping her arms in the air at this little revelation, and instead continued to read with a beaming smile on her face.

_Though I don't find myself falling into any particular label as far as who I date is concerned, being in the social circles I'm forced to flock to has definitely presented some…I think my best mate would call them "interesting birds." _

_This is certainly the most personal we have gotten here, as of late, friend, but I feel like if you don't move forward, then you don't ever really move at all. Wouldn't you say?_

Emily paused for a moment, really examining the content and context of what she had just read. "It's like she can read my mind," Emily whispered to the computer screen.

"Who can read your what, sugar tits? Here. I turned off the kettle and brought you coffee instead, you gotta keep focused." Mac asked as she entered the room and replaced Emily's cup of coffee with a fresh one. Emily felt Mac lean over her shoulder and closed her laptop immediately. The brunette crossed to the dresser and began sorting through some printer ink as Emily's eyes followed her, noting Mac was suddenly disinterested in whatever it was her girlfriend had no intention of showing her. Then the pet name really registered as Emily cocked an eyebrow in the other woman's direction.

"_Sugar_ tits?" Emily repeated, her voice dripping with disapproving sarcasm.

"Just trying a bit of dirty talk, love, don't you like?" Mac couldn't even bother to look at Emily as she examined each cartridge before deciding on the one she was looking for. Emily sighed before taking a sip of the coffee Mac had brought her moments ago. Her face scrunched immediately. She spit it back into the cup, balking as she crossed hurriedly into the kitchen to spit the remnants of it back up into the sink.

"What I don't like is when you forget I don't take cream in my coffee!" she bellowed from the other room.

Emily could have sworn she heard Mac mumble something about Emily being 'such a lesbian' before she closed the door to her office.

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><p>Naomi skimmed through her latest email as the nearby construction continued. She heard Cook swear loudly at a particular foreman before exiting the building in a huff, but it was no matter. He'd cool off, apologize, and everything would be set straight. If anything they were ahead of schedule, so she had ample time to read the reply.<p>

_Dear Friend,_

_Would I be wrong in saying that I'm rather glad that you and I share a certain appreciation for the female anatomy?_

Naomi paused and re-read the line as a tiny smile curled on her lips. "Not at all," she whispered to herself as she continued, sipping slowly at her coffee.

_I understand what you mean about women often being the source of a great of headache, and that often includes debates which ensue in the particular section of a favorite book store of mine._

_I recently had a run in with someone who claimed to be a classics lover and yet had never read Mary Shelley's Frankenstein. She could ramble on for days about Austen and Bronte but I insisted there wasn't a better female writer to exist pre-1900s than Shelley. Naturally a great argument ensued, but I couldn't help my frustration. We must swoon at Nicholas Sparks all the while pushing aside Poe, Faulkner, and even, a particular favorite of yours I am guessing from your screen name, Mr. Wilde himself. _

_No labels or boxes…you are so refreshing in that respect…_

Naomi sighed contentedly just as Cook pushed his way in through the door of Naomi's office.

"I can't take it, blondie, this bird is pitching an absolute fit over here and I can't seem to get a word in!" Naomi shut her computer and sighed for a very different and less pleasant reason this time, and made her way into the grand foyer to cover Cook's tracks yet again.

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><p>Sometime later that afternoon, Emily had sat down for her lunch break, she and Effy took turns in the afternoon manning the second shift before Karen came in to help in the evenings, and opened her inbox from the desktop in the corner. Apparently the strange, persistent customer from a few days ago had returned, trying to convince Effy to return her money on the copy of 'Frankenstein' Emily had recommended, sighting that the material was unseemly.<p>

Emily watched as Effy rolled her eyes and the shopkeeper was certain that the brunette was saying something to the effect of "Lack of taste isn't cause for return of sale." She'd heard her use the turn of phrase more than once and based off of the woman's indignant reaction as well as Effy's forced, polite smile…that was precisely what Effy had said. Emily grinned, but reminded herself to talk to Effy later about "polite customer service" in spite of her own personal convictions and her need to side with her friend, before she began to devour her latest e-mail.

_Dear Friend,_

_Speaking of things with labels, I cannot believe the number of coffee shops which line the streets these days. It's all the same product under different guises of names, all insisting that they have found a way to improve upon an import that is basically standard and universal. The selection alone forces people who can barely make one decision in one day to make at least three before their own brains are even functioning. _

_Size, flavor, hot, cold, tea, coffee, cappuccino, crack cocaine. _

_Ok, perhaps not that last one, although I'd wager there are fewer differences between four shots of espresso and a belt of the thin white line. At least given how frequently fast a few of my co-workers consume the stuff, I'd be forced to insist that they be studied in the bounds of that particular brand of research._

Emily chuckled happily as she stirred a bit more honey into her tea. Sugar always left her feeling too jittery, but the way that honey dissolved always coated her insides properly. Her sister had teased her about it when they were children, but their mother had suggested that perhaps it was a habit the younger of the two twins should pick up herself. Emily smiled at the memory before growing somber as she glanced over at a picture of she and her sister taken on holiday a few summers back.

Before the divorce, Rob and Jenna Fitch had taken their family to Goa, India, renting out a hut that one twin had spent most of the summer in, reading over several tomes she had found in local shops, while the other spent every waking ray of sun by the beach. Emily had joined her on occasion, but really felt like she couldn't be bothered to slow down on her studies. She wished, in that moment, in the corner of that little shop, that perhaps she had taken Katie up on her offer. At least once…

"They've just put the sign up for the business across the street. Think you'll want to see this," Effy said, pulling Emily out of her revere. Blinking the onset of upset back from her mind, Emily followed Effy out onto the cold, bustling pavement to stare at a large sign which made the young seller's heart sink into her stomach.

'Bookseller Publications' rose up high onto the settled marquee as Emily internally groaned. "Tits up," Effy said, crossing her arms and pulling them toward herself for warmth. Emily turned her head to Effy.

"What?"

"That's what we'll be in a few months." Emily straightened her back.

"I don't think so."

"You don't? Really? JJ teaching you magic tricks or something, recently then? Think you can make an entire shop that's four floors high just miraculously disappear and its espresso machine with it."

"Our demographic isn't the same as theirs," Emily insisted, teeth chattering in the biting wind.

"Books are their demographic, Ems, I don't know how much more alike you can get."

"Lookit," she continued, "there isn't a single antiquated thing about the entire building. Sparkle it might, but this place," Emily turned and pointed toward her small, barely more than one room shop, "this place…it's history. It's been here for years as one little mom and pop store or another. It's been through the London blitz, it's seen it's way out of hundreds of years of reconstruction and it still stands." Emily's smile grew as she stared at her hand painted sign which had been weathered and worn, but that she had personally retouched with each change of the season. "And when people see this sign they—" Emily turned back to Effy but she had already gone inside.

Pursing her lips, she frowned at Effy for exiting during her empowering, rousing little speech, but her friend merely smiled and held the door open for her. "In with you now, you pint sized William Wallace," she said with a smirk.

If it hadn't been so damned cold, Emily would have told her to shove it up her tits, since she was so fascinated with them as of late.


	3. Chapter 3

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: Hope everyone is still enjoying this! It's been a lot of fun to write and to try and parallel with the Skins-verse as well. **

**Anyone reading my other fics, "Cry Little Sister" and "Embers" should expect updates on both of those sometime this week as well. Thanks for all the support guys, it means a lot, and don't forget to leave that review when you're finished reading!**

**Cheers!**

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><p><strong>CHAPTER THREE<strong>

Slipping her key into the lock, Emily pushed the front door of the flat she shared with Mac open. The door jammed against another large stack of boxes Mac had stored in the hallway, causing Emily to whack her foot against it, swearing loudly. Groaning, she tossed her keys onto the nearby counter and dropped her bag onto a nearby sofa. Glancing around, she saw that Mac had once again neglected to make any headway on actually putting any of her shit away. Seven months ago, if someone had told Emily when Mac proposed they "move in" after two years of dating, that actually meant she would invade Emily's cramped space, she may have reconsidered the offer. And the relationship. Entirely.

Trudging down the hall Emily nearly tripped over a coat, trainers, jumpers, and all manner of packaging papers that her girlfriend had left strewn about the hall. She heard the loud pop of a bad electrical connection go off before the lights over head flickered and, "shit fuck!" came filtering through the flat.

"Fuck's sake," Emily groaned, as she pushed open the door to Mac's office and glanced around for the brunette. She found her girlfriend huddled behind a table, the tuffs of her up-do the only thing visible of her as she bobbed up and down amongst a series of electronics. Emily looked around at the state of the disheveled room before her eyes fell on something she had never seen before. Slowly entering the room, she gaped down at the antique typewriter, complete with ink papers strewn out on both sides. A piece of paper was shoved through the middle of the spire as several keys were pressed in against the white mass. Emily's mind did about three somersaults before she asked, "Where did you get this?"

Mac popped up from behind the desk, spinning around as her cardigan hit a cup filled with water onto the floor so she was back on her knees in seconds. Emily vocally sighed before handing her a nearby towel. "You're home early," Mac said, trying to sound chipper, but her tone clearly indicating she knew she had been caught.

"Mac, where did you end up getting this type writer?" Emily's girlfriend stood slowly, the towel and cup in her hand as she looked about desperately for the rubbish bin. Finally settling on a clear space on her desk instead, the tall brunette beamed as she began what Emily was sure was a well rehearsed speech.

"Emily, listen…I'm blocked. The worst writer's block I've had since uni, full tilt-a-whirl madness. I thought if I got out of the apartment, went browsing through some of my old haunts that maybe I would find something to inspire me, something to break the monotony of being here day in and day out."

"Really," Emily said, crossing her arms and saying, "you could have gone out to a job interview or two."

"I have! For days! I needed a change, Ems, something that could produce new work I could give to my public now—"

"Your public?" Emily asked, trying very hard not to balk at Mac's pretentious slip. Mac just sighed and continued, her hands and eyes growing wider and more expressive the longer she talked about her wank fest of a journey that morning.

"I went to this antique store, hoping to glean some inspiration y'know, something I could pull from and wouldn't you know it this was just there!" She pointed to the machine on the desk, and Emily was surprised that she wasn't leaning over to stroke it lovingly. The petite woman fought desperately against an on-coming eye roll as she continued to let her girlfriend continue. "It spoke to me, Ems, right out to me! I suddenly felt rejuvenated, whole, I could feel this thing's soul and I wanted to connect with it."

Emily sighed, she couldn't hold back after that melodramatic nonsense. "There's a fingering joke in this somewhere," Emily said, biting her bottom lip and eyeing the machine up and down, feigning interest. When she looked up again, a coy smile on her face, Mac's face was fierce and defiant, so much so that it took Emily aback.

"You want me stifled, is that it? It'd suit you wouldn't it to turn me into a pathetic little house wife while you had your life with your friends and your store and I'm stuck here in this shit hole of a—"

"Mac, tone it down a notch, will you?" Emily asked, finding her backbone for a brief moment before Mac snatched it away yet again.

"I won't, Emily, I can't!" she went on, slumping down into her chair. "I have to do something. They aren't buying my articles anymore, my agent's dropped me, my publisher has one foot out the door…and I have to do something." She dropped her face into her hands and for the first time during their ever rising spat, Emily genuinely did feel sorry for her girlfriend. It wasn't that she didn't care about Mac's work she just…she didn't understand why she had to make herself a martyr over it every time she had a slip up. Although, admittedly, she didn't know things had gone so far south with her publisher. Kneeling down at Mac's feet she rubbed her hands atop Mac's thighs as she asked,

"Why didn't you tell me things were that bad? I could make some phone calls for you, I don't know too many people in the publishing world but something is better than nothing right?" Mac's head shot up.

"Oh, you'd love that wouldn't you!" she bit, almost viciously, "To come in here, swoop in like a superhero and save me from myself? Well you can't Emily Fitch, no one can!" Emily was nearly knocked onto her ass as Mac stood and stormed into the bathroom, slamming the door behind her. Emily sat on the floor for several seconds, debating whether she should do anything to gel what had just happened, but it was the sound of sobs coming through the wood that eventually brought the small girl to her feet and her hand wrapping on the bathroom door.

"Come on, Mac, don't do this, yeah? We'll work it out, I just…it was just a surprise expense." There wasn't a change from within so Emily continued, "You could just try talking to me about these things you know? Since when have I not been there to listen. I know things get busy at the store, but you've been running about town too…I was just under the impression you were doing your thing." Emily's head rested against the doorway as she continued to listen to her girlfriend sob. "I can't do anything if you don't talk to me."

The door flew open and Mac's tear stained face said, "I can't write with something that has no heart, no soul, I need to feel connected to something, Emily!" Emily could feel her own tears start to form in her eyes as she reached for Mac's face lovingly and said,

"Isn't that what I'm here for?" Just before Emily's fingertips brushed against skin, Mac jerked back and slammed the door in her girlfriend's face yet again. Emily stepped away narrowly missing getting a wallop of wood ride across her nose. Biting her bottom lip she resolved to let Mac just cry it out and went over to the opened office and saw there, on the side of the type writer in black permanent marker was the price.

"And I'm out four hundred pounds," Emily groaned as she slumped down onto the couch.

* * *

><p>"She did what?" Effy practically yelled into the mobile. "She knows you don't have that kind of money!"<p>

"I know…I know…but what could I say, Effy? You know how Mac is when she gets like this."

"And I still don't understand why you put up with it," was Effy's immediate reply. Emily's head lulled back against the sofa as she stared up at the ceiling. She said, quietly, after a moment,

"I don't either sometimes." Effy's next question took Emily by surprise.

"Do you even love her anymore?" But what shocked Emily more…was the fact that she didn't rush to defend the accusation. Instead she heard the water from the other room cease, and before she could answer, switched gears entirely as she replied,

"I'll call you later," and hung up the phone. Emily turned on the telly and pretended to be interested in some sort of teen drama about a young girl who had been kidnapped as a child and had recently been reunited with her birth family…she had seen it advertised here and there so she could pick up on its plot while she waited for Mac to get out of the shower.

After nearly twenty minutes, the taller brunette finally stepped out, her white terry cloth robe covering her entirely as she brushed through her hair. Without so much as a smile, or a moment for Emily to get a word in, Mac kissed Emily on the top of the head and said, "I'm tucking in. Good night," before she turned over her shoulder and shut the bedroom door behind her.

Emily stared at the door for several seconds, wondering if Mac wanted her to follow. Wondering…why she didn't have one urge to do so. Shutting the telly off just as things were getting exciting with the emergence of the young teen's kidnapper, Emily reached beneath the sofa and produced her laptop. Opening a word document, she stared at the white screen for several seconds before she began to type.

_Dear Friend,_

_You would think growing up being a twin I would learn that life is about sharing. It's also about competition. And yet I'm surprised every single time when both of those things sort of concave into one another in my every day life. Without getting too terribly personal, let's just say that there are some pretty big figure heads in my life who would love nothing more than to either see me fail, or who would love for me to be the pedestal on which they can build themselves up. _

_I feel terrible saying those sorts of things, especially if you knew who I was talking about. But I suppose those types of facts would be hard to hear regardless of whomever it was, friend, foe, lover, or otherwise. I don't know why, but I don't mind sharing them with you, though. Maybe it's the anonymity that makes this so simple. Maybe it's more. I'd like to think it is. _

_When I sit here and think on those two aspects of life, trying my best to avoid becoming too overwhelmed or philosophical, or both…I wonder if maybe having those things in life are what makes it exciting for some. What does it say about me that I'd just…rather not? I don't want to share certain things. And I don't want to have to compete with others just to fill a space. To be there and be seen and be heard._

_I don't say all of this with the mindset that I'm small or that I don't matter. But London can make you feel a bit…insignificant sometimes, don't you think? On occasion? And the people in it can make you wonder what it is they have to fight for so that you question your own stance as well._

_Everything is always loud and exciting for them. Like some wild ride out of a novel._

_Is that what life is supposed to be? Should I want that? Do I want that?_

_I guess I failed in my attempt to not sound philosophical. _


	4. Chapter 4

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: No note this time, just hope you enjoy!**

**CHAPTER FOUR**

"No way, Cook, absolutely not," Naomi groaned as she ducked underneath yet another lowered beam which was being added just outside her office. She closed the door behind them as her friend followed in behind her.

"Whah y'a'n' int'rested in spending time wif Sam all of a sudden?" Naomi turned and glared at him.

"That's not fair," she said, her voice dripping with warning as her steel blue eyes bore into him. It was then that the door opened and closed with much more eager and youthful enthusiasm than before as a young girl of about six dashed through the door and with bright rosy cheeks and sparkling hazel eyes beamed up at the blonde executive.

"Hi, Naomi!" she said eagerly before glancing up at Cook. "Daddy, are you ready to go yet?" Cook's face fell as he knelt to his daughter's height. He was just barely on way knee before her face visibly fell.

"Princess—" he started, but she was quick to cut him off.

"You only call me Princess when you've got something bad to say," she said, a hint of hurt echoing in the back of her throat. Naomi tried to tear her eyes away from the scene. She knew that Cook had been ordered by someone higher up than herself to be here to man the opening, and it's not exactly like Cook scheduled his visits with his daughter during the week, but the little tot had been dropped off on his doorstep that morning all the same.

"Actually," Naomi said, finally caving into the pressure and placing the documents she had in her hand on her desk. "Coo—Daddy has to work this morning. And he asked me if I could take you to the festival and he'll meet us there." The little girl looked between her father and godmother briefly before she nodded, a small smile creeping onto her face.

"Yeah, I guess that would be ok, just hurry up, or the pony ride lines are going to get long." Naomi sighed as the little bundle known as Samantha, she preferred Sam, Cook darted out of the office and back to the nearby steps where she had kept her knapsack. Cook beamed at his best friend, nearly grabbing her face in an attempt to kiss her, but she quickly dodged his palms, slapping them away with a raised finger in warning. She pushed him back just enough so that she could make her way out the door.

"I owe ya woon, blondie!" he whispered into the wisps of her hair as she passed him, his toothy grin beaming bright as Naomi smiled over her shoulder. He waved to Sarah whose hand had fallen into Naomi's moments later. The blonde bundled them up as she cast Cook a half-hearted eye roll.

"You owe me several," she answered, Cook's face already breaking into his boystrous, signature grin which usually melted into a open mouthed guffaw just as Naomi ushered Sam out the front door.

* * *

><p>The festival stretched around nearly twenty blocks through downtown London. Luckily for Naomi they didn't have to go further than stepping right outside their door as a carnival ride was setting up just a few feet away. The construction workers had been a bit fussy about having to share their loading space but once things had gelled that morning, and they knew that they wouldn't be bothered later in the afternoon, Naomi knew she could leave things in Cook's hands and just focus on having a good time with her goddaughter. "So, where should we go first?" she asked as she was certain she heard cheesy Halloween tunes being played out of a nearby loud speaker.<p>

"This way!" Sam squealed as they peeled off into the oncoming crowd of children and adults in various stage of costumed attire.

Making their way around and through the festival was tricky, but they still managed to stop off at each little booth which had been set up. Sam had her face painted to look like a vampire and had insisted that Naomi get something on her face as well. Naomi opted with having a small floral vine design drawn down one side of her face before Sam pulled her over to the cotton candy stand, pink AND blue colors in their swirled sugar, naturally. Sam wanted every candy confection she saw, but Naomi had managed to coerce her into a few bites of her steamed corn which she had purchased at a "build your own scarecrow" booth nearby. Naomi had been more than a little puzzled what anyone in a city as metropolitan as London would want with a scarecrow, but to each their own.

The duo had made their way through half of the festival before Sam's eyes grew wide as they turned the corner back toward the store. Naomi was certain the little girl had perhaps seen her father come out of the building, but instead she was running down the pavement toward the small little book store across the street. "It's the Book Lady!" Sam cried as a nearby sign, decorated in orange, yellow, and green festival chalk against a black board read, 'Read Me A Story' with times listed beneath. "Come on, Naomi, come on we're gonna miss it!" she cried. Looking down at her watch, Naomi was certain they had more than enough time to get in and get seated.

With a long sigh, she thought, _Well_ _you had to go in sometime_, before the ring of the overhead bell quietly heralded their entrance into the shop. Naomi glanced about the store which was decorated to look like the inside of some sort of witch's cottage with overhanging vines, bails of hay, cardboard cut out candy, and a faint smell of pumpkin and cinnamon wafting through the air. Just as she was about to fall into the ambiance of the presentation of the small little space, she heard a nearby voice coming from across the room. The business was unusually quiet and so the sound echoed throughout the walls as Sam tugged at Naomi's sleeve and whispered, "It's started, it's started come on."

The little girl pulled Naomi deeper into the heart of the store and as she did, a clear voice rang from the back, and both had to stop themselves from colliding with the small group of people who sat in a semi-circle in front of a woman donning a red cape. She swooshed it theatrically as she knelt down to whisper a part of the story and when she stood back up, her eyes briefly met Naomi's.

It was as if a shovel had literally smacked her in the face. As Naomi stared into the eyes of the storyteller her entire existence was wiped clean of everything apart from the theatrical woman in the center of the room. She hadn't even noticed that Sam had released her hand and was now darting off toward the little cluster of children. Naomi leant against the bookshelf, a dopey smile plastered onto her face as the cloaked woman removed returned her attention back to the children and began to soar into the deeper parts of the story. Naomi knew she had to look like a soppy tit, and after oxygen slowly leaked back into her lungs she cleared her throat, found an open space on the floor and listened to the story being told.

She had heard the story of Snow White before, like most children, but this was certainly a different take. An older take if she remembered correctly, and an interesting story to tell to children at a fall festival. Yet with its cuddly bear (complete with a "bear roar" and "bear paws" that the storyteller produced), evil dwarf (who had a cackle which caused Naomi to produce the loudest laugh in the room), and a few other assorted adventures, Naomi found that she would have to give "Snow White and Rose Red" another read entirely. She briefly remembered there being a theory, circulating amongst a few, that the two were not sisters but had in fact been two girls who had consequently been raised together…and once the princes had died…returned to their "former arrangement." As the children clapped at the prince's heroic transformative ending, Naomi smirked to herself, yet applauded along with everyone else.

Whoever this woman was, she was a masterful entertainer. And she seemed to beam and glow with the joy which spread across the children's faces as they reached into the goody bowl to paw up their prizes and each little clue about another prize they could find hidden within the shop. Naomi peered over several heads until she found the one that belonged to her goddaughter. When she was certain that Sam had made instant friends and was now off on a treasure hunt with them, she waited for the seas to part to find some way to approach the woman who had struck her fancy.

Upon approach, she saw that she was engaged in talking animatedly to a thin brunette who noticed Naomi's approach first, and in doing so, gave her a sideways smirk as she nodded to the petite…yes definitely petite…woman who Naomi was anxious, and admittedly nervous, to speak with. Even moreso when the woman turned and gave her a smile unlike any Naomi had ever encountered. Her lips traced the outline of her mouth in a way that couldn't be seen as anything apart from alluring, and it was instantaneous. Suddenly, Naomi found that the air in the room had depleted yet again.

"I don't think I've ever heard Snow White and Rose Red aloud before," she settled on. The smaller woman smiled at Naomi who was now straining to find a shred of air in the room.

"You do know that story time is for children, right?" Naomi blinked and nodded before pointing in the direction where she was certain Sam had trotted off to. And was rather embarrassed to come up short sighted. "Someone in here belong to you?" the husky voice asked, taking a step closer into Naomi so that her line of sight could follow the blonde's finger. Naomi swallowed as she lowered her arm, causing the woman in front of her to turn.

"Yes and no. My goddaughter, Sam, she insisted we stop by here," Naomi informed with a smile. She was certain her cheeks were going to start flushing any moment so her mind worked fast. "So, do you read stories aloud for a living? I wasn't aware that there was high demand for that sort of thing." Naomi was pleased when she got a smile before she felt an insistent tug on her arm.

"Looks like she found you," the brown-eyed woman said, her eyes directing down to the insistent pull away from Naomi's intended gaze. Naomi turned her head down to her goddaughter who was shoveling a toy in her face.

"Can I get one?" the little girl asked, and before Naomi could say yes or no, the smaller woman scooped up the product and took it behind the counter. She immediately began pressing buttons as Naomi intervened.

"I didn't say she could have that, I don't even know how much it is," she insisted, trying not to sound too overbearing while still holding on to some semblance of the control she felt slipping through her fingers as this beautiful woman worked with her goddaughter into manipulating her prized purchase.

"It's a gift of sale, with any book you select in the store. In spite of price," the storyteller said as she clicked out a receipt. Naomi smiled as she accepted and glanced at the white slip of paper.

"Sure your boss won't get on to you for feeding into a child being spoiled rotten?" Naomi asked. Just as the woman was about to answer, the same, thin brunette from minutes ago appeared and leaned over the counter.

"Emily, did we get out Mr. Sowerberry's order in with our last shipment?" The brunette's voice was just as low as…

…_Emily's…_

…but not quite. Naomi gazed at Emily now, having a name to associate with before realization struck her and she nearly toppled over the glass counter where Emily's work associate was now lounging.

"All right?" Emily asked, placing her hand on Naomi's coated shoulder. Naomi smiled and struggled to stand as it dawned on her that she had been flirting with Emily Fitch, the woman who ran this store…the woman who she would undoubtably, ultimately put out of business. Naomi nodded, looking around for Sam who had disappeared, and was of course, nowhere nearby to provide her with a reasonable distraction. "Check in the back, Effy," Emily said as Naomi's eyes fell to a first edition of Mary Shelley's Frankenstein, emboldened under the glass counter.

_I need to buy a book and get out of here before she asks who I am._

A sinking disappointment at the thought of having to cut their interaction short gurgled in the pit of Naomi's stomach as she pointed down at the rare book and said, "That one, if you please," not even bothering to look at the price tag. Emily gave her a small smirk, as she removed the copy from the case and began punching buttons on the register.

"You were worried about a ten dollar toy purchase when your book is nearly 250 pounds?" Naomi grinned.

"Fucked up priorities, I suppose," she said as she handed her piece of plastic to the smaller woman, doing her best now not to make eye contact. Naomi couldn't help but notice that Emily was aware of the switch in demeanor…and she also couldn't help but notice that the smaller woman seemed a bit disappointed in Naomi's sudden rush to leave the store.

"Do you and your goddaughter live around here?" Emily attempted, trying to make last minute conversation, to prolong the transaction, but when Sam ran by, Naomi grabbed the little girl by the hem of her jumper.

"We're all set," Naomi ordered rather than stated, as she extended her hand toward Emily for her card and the paper bag which held her book. She tried and failed to hide her hint of disappointment at the crest-fallen look on Emily's face so she decided to add, "Your store is truly marvelous. I admit I prefer the feel to these sorts of shops as opposed to the bigger corporate buildings." It was then that Sam decided to acknowledge her godmother's existence.

"Then why do you work in—" Naomi picked Sam up and clung her close as she tucked the paper bag into her arm. Emily giggled a bit as the young girl struggled and insisted she be put down.

"It was lovely to meet you, Emily," Naomi said as she headed for the door.

"I didn't catch your name!" she heard echo behind her. Naomi turned slowly as the ding of the overhead bell chimed, and she was certain as she flashed Emily her brightest smile, she saw the shopkeeper blush.

"Just another happy customer," she said with a wink before stepping out with Sam into the biting fall air.


	5. Chapter 5

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: Apologies for the tardiness of this chapter. I've had a long, stressful month, but I hope this was worth the wait and it was certainly a lot of fun to write. You'll see why by the end ;)**

**Can't wait to hear what you guys think!**

* * *

><p><strong>CHAPTER FIVE<strong>

As the "Now Open" sign draped across the front of the large glass doors of "Bestseller Publications," Naomi stared out from her newly furnished office at Cook who pumped his arms up and down to the small cheering crowd that had gathered, mostly of investors and their accountants. The sandy haired young man pushed the handle open and people began filing right in. Naomi admitted she was impressed, it looked like Cook had managed to find a way to draw a crowd to a store opening. Normally these sorts of things went under the radar in the information age, but there was definitely a good, slow trickle of excited voices filtering in through the echo of the hallways. If nothing else, from the opposite window within the overlook of the store, Naomi could see people walking about exploring, getting to know the store in more intimate detail. Those who came with children immediately bolted up the large staircase which resided in the middle to the Children's Wing which had corresponding "reading nooks" that Naomi had personally designed herself. It was definitely a different tone altogether from the shimmering, glistening bottom floor. And admittedly, it's what the blonde was most proud of as Cook passed by her window and threw her a thumbs up. Naomi smiled in return.

_Dear Friend,_

_Where does the time go? One minute it's Halloween, the next it's Christmas. And before you know it, what seemed like two days has turned into two months, and we have now been corresponding for going on nearly half a year. It's rather intriguing to me that we've managed to keep up our little rouse, not really confiding our statistics about our lives or relationships, mine being ever non-existent apart from the blink of you in my inbox, and yet we've still managed to in some way, on some level, find a way of connecting in a world filled with too many dropped connections. _

_I find that rather charming._

Emily beamed as she read and re-read "Wilde's" latest e-mail, hanging onto each word as it kept her heart light in a series of days where all it had been was weighted.

"Emily are you ready yet? We're going to be late!" came Mac's voice from the other end of the flat. Emily had been avoiding Mac the entire afternoon, feigning interest in trying to get ready for the dinner party that the two of them had been invited to via Effy and her fiancé, Freddie Mclair. In truth, she'd been avoiding her due to a particular conversation with a local writer who had come in to set up a book signing with her store.

As they had been setting up her booth which displayed that the writer would be in town on a book signing, Emily had let slip the fact that since Bestsellers had opened, her worst fears were becoming a reality. The store was slowly starting to go under, and there was a chance that they wouldn't make it past Christmas. The author had suggested the name of a brand new journalist who had been hired over at the Herald as one of the political activist columnists. Apparently her work was circulating pretty heavily and that maybe Emily could contact her to write up a column, get the community involved. At the time it had peaked Emily's interest and she had asked who this particular connection was. It wasn't until after she heard the name, Mackenzie Stanley, that her entire demeanor had deflated.

Turns out it was true. Emily had checked the Herald's website and had seen a spread on Mac's new column, and had immediately navigated out of it, checking her inbox and finding the only source of comfort to balm the wound that Mac had neglected to tell her about her brand new, undoubtably five figure paycheck attached to her job.

"Emily," Mac chastised as she slipped into the bedroom, her hair in a towel as she slipped into her seat in front of the vanity. "We need to leave in an hour and you haven't even changed out of that mangy old jumper you always wear. Have you even showered?" Mac didn't bother looking at Emily or waiting for a reply, but she got one anyway.

"Katie bought this for me," she said firmly, slamming the top of her laptop closed. Katie was a very sore subject for Emily, especially the closer it got to the holidays. Mac knew that. But often, oh so very often, Mac forgot. And Emily didn't understand why. But at the very least, she had the decency to slump her shoulders, pause from applying her foundation and turn back to her girlfriend.

"I'm sorry, babes," she said quietly, a touch of sincerity in her voice. Emily stared at her for a long while. Several seconds passed before she finally felt her eyebrows start to unknit and she was about to open her mouth to ask a question when Mac's sorrowful expression faded, and the back of her head was facing Emily once more. "But you know how long it takes you to get ready, and if you don't hurry we're going to be late. These are not the type of people you want to keep waiting."

Emily bit down on her tongue. Hard. In fact she was certain she felt the tiniest drop of blood push against her lips as she asked, "Do you think I should close the shop?" She got yet another exasperated sigh from Mac, but in a monotone resuscitation that Emily had heard several times in the last week, her girlfriend merely replied,

"Of course not, dear. You're the underdog, and you have to stand up for the little guy. You can't cave now. Your shop will be fine." Standing, Emily pushed her chair back and then slamming it underneath the desk as she stormed from the room to the loo.

"Thanks for the fucking vote of confidence," she practically snarled, as she slammed the door behind her for good measure.

* * *

><p>A light rap on the front door wasn't going to carry over the already loud noises coming from inside the flat. So naturally, Mac's hand was practically behind Emily's own as she took up where her girlfriend left off and beat against the wood grain furiously. Emily ran her hands down the side of her dress, wiping her hands uncomfortably. She'd chosen a knee length dress that Effy had occasionally called her "little black number," and it normally served to turn Mac's head. It hadn't this evening. And Emily wondered momentarily why she couldn't care less. "Maybe we should just try the knob," she insisted, but Mac was already busy applying another shade of lipstick in the keyhole reflection. It gave Emily pause as she immediately thought to run her hands across her shoulders, having decided to wear her hair down, and now wondering with how dolled up Mac had ended up getting if she weren't in fact <em>under<em> dressed for this occasion. A light click of the case was the last thing heard in the hallway before the door swung open and a very happy, and very drunk, Karen Mclair answered the door. "Emsy! Macksy! Come in come in!" she ushered, holding the door for the two of them while simultaneously trying to keep her balance. Emily felt Mac's hand at the back of her waist as she pushed Emily through and into the cacophony that awaited them.

Karen Mclair was the product of the glitz and glamour of London's West End, after her pursuit of hoping to be a pop star tanked. It took a lot of years of dusting herself off but eventually she earned connections which later became quite valuable. Her brother, Freddie, happened to run one of the largest talent agencies in the UK. He'd met Effy at an open casting cattle call and had been smitten by her ever since. Effy had only shown up that day on a dare from Katie when they were no more than nineteen, when Emily's older twin insisted that Effy would never take her easy good looks and turn a profit for them. Ultimately, Effy didn't, in spite of the several offers which came her way.

But it was enough to catch Freddie's eye, and after a long, almost embarrassingly so, pursuit the two to started dating. The years had led them here. At this dinner party. Where all sorts of people from every profitable walk of life found themselves. Journalists, public relations associates, even corporate CEOs of publishing companies were amongst the hopeful wanna-bes of the performing arts.

So naturally, Emily felt totally and utterly out of place as a waiter passed by with a plate full of champagne flutes and she snatched one up immediately, downing the entire thing in nearly two swallows.

"Eclectic," she muttered to herself, knowing that Mac had already disappeared to hob-knob amongst the crowds of people whom she was absolutely certain she had to know everything about.

"That's not exactly the word I would have used," a soft and familiar voice came from behind her. Emily's face flushed as she turned and was met with a pair of blue eyes that she admittedly had caught herself thinking of on more than one occasion since their last meeting. She was dressed in a smart pants suit which hugged her subtle curves, her long, blonde hair was done up, shreds of gold christening her soft ivory features here and there. Emily's smile grew ever wider, mentally insisting that the blush was due to the quick downing of the champagne. "Sharks, vultures, all manner of predatory animal comes to mind immediately of course, maybe a few vipers thrown in here and there."

"And may I ask which you happen to be? I want to be sure I steer clear of dangerous company." Emily had meant it as a joke but for a brief moment she felt the air between them change, as Naomi's eyes darted from where they were previously so intent on her own. "I'm sorry did I—did I offend you?" Naomi's smile returned just as quickly as it had vanished.

"No, no of course not," she replied before pointing to Emily's now empty glass. "May I get you another?" Emily nodded before adding,

"Only if you grab one for yourself. My girlfriend seems to have pissed off and left me to tend to myself." Again, that awkward air flitted through as Naomi cleared her throat, her cheeks turning a slight shade of scarlet as her mouth formed an open 'oh,' before she bit her lip, raised a single finger and made her way to the refreshment table. Emily had the urge to follow her but she quickly felt an arm drape over her shoulders as she turned and saw Freddie embrace her in a warm hug.

"How're we doing then, Ems?" he asked, as he squeezed her tight. His tall shoulders practically engulfed her as Emily laughed lightly into his chest. "Didn't figure I'd see you getting all chummy with Naomi Campbell, all things considered," he said as he pulled away. When he did, Emily sized him up, her eyes narrowing in slight suspicion.

"Naomi _Campbell_?" she asked, her ears flushing as the pit of her stomach did a tiny summersault. Her brain hadn't quite digested the information so she continued, "Not _the_ Naomi Campbell? CEO of Bestseller Publications?" Freddie looked down at the woman as if she had just flipped her lid.

"What's the matter, Emily, you look as if you just found out there was no such thing as Santa Claus." His words were left to float in the air as Emily stormed away, the hems of her dress trailing after her like a black fire as her skin continued to flush with a rage she was utterly confused about in origin. She didn't know why it made her so upset to learn that she had been flirting…

…_Flirting?!...I had…I had been __**flirting**__ with….with…._

By the time Emily reached the refreshment table she had all but bumped into Naomi as the blonde noticed her approach and smiled, utterly gobsmacked when she was met with a tyrannical, pint-sized woman instead. Naomi had her mouth open for two seconds, about to ask what had Emily so infuriated before she felt both wine glasses wrenched from her hands and the contents tossed in her face. First one, "I—" and then the other, "What?!"

"Naomi Campbell," Emily practically spat, "Naomi Campbell of fucking _Bestseller __**Publications**_?!" Naomi's hands wiped at her eyes as she took in the venomous words, and after a long exhale she leaned in close and made a quiet request,

"Would you follow me into the loo…please?" She didn't wait for Emily to agree, and yet the sheer momentum of everything which had just so quickly transpired sent Emily after Naomi as they both trudged off away from the small crowd which was beginning to gather at their heated confrontation.

Naomi grabbed some paper towels off the ringer, wiping her face and checking her makeup as Emily entered, her hand slamming the door open and hard against the wall behind it. "Well? Why am I in here, what could you possibly say to me?"

"Why are you so angry?" Naomi asked, cool as a cucumber, too cool, in Emily's opinion for someone who just had two glasses of alcohol tossed in their face. The door shut quietly as Emily opened her mouth for an explanation but to her flustered frustration…she couldn't find one. "I mean apart from the obvious, apart from the fact that I'm your competition, what has you so upset? I mean…champagne in the face? Really? Like some sort of…of trashy romantic comedy!" Naomi's eyes grew wide and she turned to her reflection in the mirror, furiously wiping at her face. Emily closed the distance between them and practically spat her reply.

"Were you spying on me?" Naomi's head snapped around as she stood her full height.

"What?"

"When you were in my shop, were you spying on me? I bet you were. I bet that wasn't even really your goddaughter. I bet you picked her up at a Tesco with promises of candies from your in-store sweet shop and 10% off coupons to your multi-million dollar dream crusher!" It all had come out in one, long, drawn out breath, and it only took Emily half a second after she had finished her 'seeing red' speech to realize that the distance between them wasn't even enough to raise a hand. Yet somehow, Naomi managed to do it anyway.

"Emily," she said tenderly, placing her hand on the shorter girl's shoulder, "you have to understand that—"

"And what sort of name is Bestseller Publications, anyway, huh? Bit of a mouth full that." Naomi's hand fell from Emily's shoulder as the wet paper towel whizzed by her hair and into the rubbish bin.

"Oh, and 'The Shop Around The Corner,' just rolls off the tongue does it?" Emily raised her own hand this time, only she was displaying a very direct and pointed finger just beneath Naomi's chin.

"No," she said quietly, threateningly, "no you don't even get to say that name. I heard about all the businesses your system has closed down over the years. But I've got news for you, _Naomi Campbell_," she practically spit the name right back into the blonde's face, "mine will not…and I repeat will _not_ be one of them. I won't let it." Naomi's eyes softened just the tiniest bit as she replied,

"I love your store. It's everything that London needs…London is losing…but I am proud of the things I have done for my own corporation. For the people who work there, for the charities it provides for…success isn't something to be scoffed at." Emily felt the balloon pop as the air from her sails began to sink. She didn't want to admit it but on some level…she understood exactly where Naomi was coming from.

But she wasn't about to admit it. Especially not right now. And especially not in front of those blue eyes that were only growing more and more gorgeous the longer she stared into them, in spite of the rage that they were churning inside of her…amongst a few other unmentionable things…

Without another word, Emily turned and stormed out of the loo, finding Mac almost instantly and insisting that they leave. "What now?" her girlfriend chided, lowering her voice to keep the small crowd of people from hearing their conversation. "That's not happening, Ems. If you're bored then call a cab."

Emily quietly spat, "Thanks for being so understanding…sweetheart…." Emily waited until she was out the door and halfway down the street before she paused to wipe the tears from her cheeks. But they weren't because of Mac.

And deep down…that's what worried Emily the most…

* * *

><p><em>Dear Friend,<em>

_I don't wish to seem weak, but sometimes I let people get the better of me. I know we've all fallen victim to this, but that's precisely what I don't want to appear to be. A victim. I don't want to ever wonder if there was something I could have done…anything I could have done…to ensure my happiness. These days…I find I'm not very happy. Apart from these e-mails which fill my inbox, my head and frankly…my heart…there aren't a lot of positives accumulating in other aspects of my life. _

_One day soon, I hope to change that._

Emily read over her email again and again, wondering if she dared be so candid. But somehow she knew…it would be appearing before non-judgmental eyes. Just a few shocking moments later she received a reply. A short, simple reply which made her break down into a fresh batch of tears. Happy ones.

_Dearest Friend,_

_Fight. Fight and never give up._


	6. Chapter 6

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: Hope everyone enjoys the update. This is more or less part one of a two part scene, so hopefully I can get part two up in a relatively timely manner. **

**Cheers!**

**CHAPTER SIX**

* * *

><p>Standing outside of the shop door, Naomi's nose began to freeze as yet another strong gust of wind threatened to knock her over. It took several blinks of her eyelashes for her eyes to refocus and eventually she conceded that it was better to at least face the music and probably garnish a severe tongue lashing rather than stand out in the cold and freeze her tits off. The familiar sound of the overhead bell rang lightly as she closed the door behind her. She shut her eyes quickly and took a deep breath before opening them again and turning back into the shop.<p>

When she did so, her heart stopped. There was a scent of Christmas cookies and vanilla flooding the air as she stared around at all the holly and wreaths which had been placed up and around the tops of the bookshelves and furnishing within the quaint little shop. A lit snow man was the center piece for a winter wonderland that filled the hand painted snow flakes which garnished each window. A soft, male voice was just beginning the opening lines to "The Christmas Song" as tears began to well in Naomi's eyes.

_My god, how can I bare to see this vanish?_

"Can I help you with something?" a husky voice called from a corner of the room, just as Naomi took a few more steps over the threshold. Emily's head was buried in a book as she stepped just around the front of the corner, and Naomi was grateful that for a moment she could steal a glance. Without the bustle of customers and without the pretension of party hair and make-up she could steal a solitary picture of Emily, nose amongst pages, her hair in a loose pony tail with wispy hair falling on either side of face, and even from here, Naomi could tell her skin was positively porcelain in how well it was illuminated by the soft colored lights blinking throughout the room.

_She's positively enchanting._

But the spell was broken rather quickly as Emily's face rose from where it was previously focused and with a hard slam against the counter top, the soft, rosy lips that Naomi was just about to admire next thinned in a look of utter disgust. Small arms folded about a plain, simple woven jumper and Naomi was surprised that she didn't see the smaller girl immediately begin to tap her foot against the floor, as if she were about to unleash the scolding of her life. Naomi quietly admitted that would be quite all right with her, if it meant that at the very least Emily would talk to her.

"What do you want?" Emily finally asked, not making a move to come toward Naomi but not exactly looking like she was planning an eager escape either. Brushing the rest of the snow flurries from her jacket atop the welcome mat just inside the door, Naomi took a few steps into the warmth of the room as she twirled her ungloved hands nervously at her waist.

"I just wanted to apologize…" she began, "…for the party."

"Just for the party?" Emily said, a scoff unable to prevent itself from passing through her lips as she took a few steps toward Naomi, her hips swaying just the tiniest bit. Naomi did her best not to stare but she couldn't help where her eyes eventually landed, causing Emily to stop. Naomi's eyes darted back up as she tried again,

"Is…is there something else, or—"

"No," Emily said flatly, "no there can't possibly be anything else you have done to wound me. Personally…or professionally…" Naomi sighed, her shoulders slouching as she opened her mouth to speak but Emily raised a hand between them, stopping the blonde in her tracks. "Miss Campbell—"

"Naomi." Emily's eyes narrowed and Naomi did her best to try and not register the fact that for a brief moment, Emily's expression had softened. But her features were back to stone as her face broke from what was a momentary happy expression into a harsh laugh.

"Oh god," Emily scoffed, her laugh slowly fading as she added, "No, I don't think so. Pleasantries? First names? We're not friends who happen to run a mutual interest business, Naomi." Emily closed the distance between them, the fire sparking just as intensely as it had at the party. Only Naomi was certain that Emily looked even more beautiful without all the donned hair and makeup, just at home in her element. A lioness protecting her home. It sent Naomi's blood racing from the top of her head to the bottom of her toes, but not because she was being challenged by a beautiful, competitive woman.

Stilling herself, taking a deep breath, Naomi straightened her back, shaking off the burst of lust that had coursed through her "How is business, Emily?" she asked as coolly but sincerely as possible. That halted the smaller girl's steps in a second. Her fact softened with a hint of despair before she fought to regain control of her dominant stance. Naomi dared to take a few more steps, placing her hands on Emily's shoulders as she added, "if you had just had a single conversation with me at the party I would have eventually told you who I was."

"Why didn't you the day you were in here?" Emily was quick to ask, but Naomi was just as quick to reply.

"I hadn't seen you in a dress just yet," was Naomi's daring response. She took a momentary victory in the fact that Emily's face flushed just for a moment in the glow of the blinking holiday lights before she continued, "I came here to tell you that I meant it when I said I loved this store," she said with all sincerity. "I know it seems hard to believe but…" Naomi's hands lowered just slightly, feeling like the delivery of this particular past would be better served if there wasn't this wonderful, strange physical contact that she had established, "…the very first thought I had when I entered here was how much my mother would have loved bringing me here as a child. And as much as Sam raved and talked about the place for the rest of the day, I felt just as connected to it as she did. I don't want to see your business go down."

Emily's face draped a thoughtful if not altogether unreadable expression. Naomi's voice and intentions were direct and sincere, but she knew there were still several more words to say. "I mean that, you know," she added, stalling for the proper words as her hands buried themselves in her coat pocket because she was still at an utter loss over what to do or say with them. "And I meant what I said at the party, I'm proud of the work my corporation does. For the jobs it provides, for the product that-"

"Panders to the lowest common denominator?" Emily finished for her, the petite woman's smile having evaporated again altogether. Naomi sighed, her shoulders slumping.

"Seems to me you've passed a lot of judgement on a person you don't even know," Naomi bit back, feeling the beginnings of her patience waning.

"But I do know you," Emily insisted.

"People like me maybe-"

"All right, fine, is that the right vernacular? People like you?" Emily snapped, her temper rising at the clear indication she thought Naomi was patronizing her. She turned her back on the blonde and began her retreat back to her counter as she continued to rave, leaving Naomi to stand and absorb everything. But she didn't do so silently. She was just thinking. "People like you who are so far up the corporate ladder that you can't possibly see beyond the next profit margin? Who no matter how much you profess to being good people it still doesn't stifle the fact that every day hard working small businesses crumble in a market of underhanded, overpaid men and women in suits who would rather buy their next sports car then actually make a contribution to society?" Emily was behind the counter now, pulling out a package from beneath the register. Her tiny hands pulled at the string around the wrapping as Naomi took cautious careful steps toward her. She'd spent the time Emily had been tossing insults at her really looking the place over in the dimly lit, small room. Looking at it closer she could see where maintenance was needed, the computer behind the register was very much out of date, easily ten years or more, and that the register still had punch buttons. Now true, it could all be on account of the aesthetic choice to go along with the ambiance, Naomi knew that. But she also knew that the store had been open for at least twenty minutes since she stepped over the threshold and not a single person had walked through the doors.

Emily's finger snapped back against the pull of the rope as a loud tear brought Naomi back to her senses and the sound of Emily's husky voice beginning to grow louder with frustrated insistence.

Pulling her hands free from within her coat Naomi carefully placed them on the glass counter top in front of her as she asked, "Emily," her voice careful but none the less sincere. She waited for the change of cadence in her register to Emily, causing her to pause and look up, before she continued. "How...is business these days?"

"Fine," was Emily's immediate reply, as she set about trying to untie the package yet again. Sighing, Naomi resisted the urge to roll her eyes, although it seemed to be a less manageable habit around the spunky shopkeeper, and instead reached up to help Emily with the knot.

"Here," Naomi insisted, lightly brushing Emily's hands away before finding a weak spot in the otherwise vise grip in the rope and pulling hard. The brown paper immediately began to loosen as Naomi pulled the knot free, and with a nod of her head, allowed Emily to continue with her task if need be. She hoped to raise her eyes and find a smile. Instead Emily was smirking at her harder than ever before.

"You're a right piece of work, do you know that, Naomi?" The blonde's mouth fell open in a partial gasp before Emily was on her ever rising temper. "You think I'm some dumb little girl you can come in and flirt with and compliment and I'll bat my eyelashes and hand over any information you ask for so you can steamroll me into a corner? Is that how you closed down that shop in Manchester, or Wales, or even that little start up company in Bristol?" Naomi was sure Emily was saying a slew of other words, but in spite of herself she couldn't help the smile that was growing on the corner of her lips as she repeated,

"Flirt?" A small laugh escaped her lips as she found herself also adding, "Is that what you're hoping I'm doing, Emily?" Emily's cheeks flushed a brand new shade of red and her lips parted just slightly in a quiet exhale, time all but stopped between them. Naomi's eyes softened then. No combative stance, no cheeky double entendre graced her expression. Instead she reached out and draped a hand over Emily's. But the minute she did so it became more than painfully obvious that she had stepped over some sort of line. A line she had been willing to cross the day she stepped into this shop. But from the violent burst of anger behind Emily's eyes, the other woman clearly was not on the same page.

"Out!" she demanded, "I reserve the right to deny service to anyone, you patronizing, conceded cow!" Naomi only had half a second to back away from the counter before a sharp pain shot through her eye. Grabbing her face as her cheek bone began to throb, she heard Emily shriek from behind the counter.

"Oh god, Naomi! Oh my god I'm so sorry, I don't know what happened-" Emily was at Naomi's side trying to force the blonde to remove her hand from her injury so she could inspect it. Naomi's eyes began to water as the realization of what just occurred dawned on her.

"Did you just hit me with a sodding book?" Emily gingerly pried Naomi's fingers free before correcting,

"Um, spine of the book. Corner of the spine. Technically." Emily sighed. "Fuck it's going to bruise." Emily's fingers traced over Naomi's swollen skin and suddenly, the blonde book store executive didn't think it was such a bad thing to have an injured face after all if it meant Emily's touch could linger against her hairline. Which it was doing. And Naomi made no move to make it go away. Instead she just smiled and asked,

"Do you happen to have an ice pack?"


End file.
